


The Stars Are Dreams Come True

by wizardslexicon



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardslexicon/pseuds/wizardslexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cynthia's rise to power, complete with feminism and a dash of friendship and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars Are Dreams Come True

“Nothing,” repeated Harry, shoving his tongue into his cheek. He adjusted the large camera on his shoulder with a practiced sigh.

“Not one newbie Trainer on their way to challenge the Sinnoh League? No sob stories? No one-on-one interviews with the next big star?” asked Brenda, with rising annoyance. She’d picked up work as a reporter with Sinnoh’s Trainer Spotlight while she paid off debts from university, but thought being a reporter meant going where she was told the stories were, not having to hunt them down herself. Harry simply shook his head.

“Fine! We’ll go hunt down the story.” With a grumble, she entered the castle that housed the Pokémon League’s official Challengers’ Vestibule. She actually had all eight gym badges; Harry’s press pass was enough for him to be allowed inside.

Brenda looked around, her stylish bob swishing around comically. There was the mini-Center, where tired Trainers covered in filth from the caverns had their partners healed up, and a mini-Market as well.

“Capitalism rolls on,” muttered Harry, and Brenda nodded in agreement. Her eyes swiveled all round the room until they lit on perhaps the strangest figure: a lump lying under an oversized, fraying black peacoat. Brenda was loath to approach it, but, noticing the direction of her gaze, one of the nearby Trainers spoke up.

“She’s not an official Challenger,” he said, gesturing to the lump, which was just beginning to stir. “Just some wacko. I think she’s homeless; everyone I’ve met says she sleeps right there on that bench every day, and goes in to make a challenge. Stubborn and weak, I guess, if she hasn’t won after all these challenges.”

Brenda nodded, her interest caught. If most Challengers knew this person, then there had to be a good story in it! Maybe she was a down-on-her-luck Ace Trainer trying to win the extravagant prize money for defeating an Elite. But a look at the large electronic screen that displayed the week’s challengers showed mostly losses, with one or two scattered wins against an Elite or two. That was good; it meant the balance of strength between League and freelancer was fairly equal.

But one message kept running across the moving “minor events” banner on the bottom of the screen: “Winner, Cynthia Harlowe!”, over and over. Brenda put two and two together: this woman was beating as many Elites as possible for the prize money so she could buy enough food to survive. When she related her thoughts to Harry, he nodded slightly.

“There’s a five-minute segment in that, I think,” he said in his quiet way, and Brenda’s mind was made up. She stalked over to the lump and poked it in the side, and instantly it convulsed, flipped over, and produced a slim blonde teenager with deep bags under her eyes.

“What the—are they calling me in already? I haven’t even had my morning coffees yet...” The girl looked up at Brenda, blinked twice. “Reporter? You mind talking to me while I eat breakfast?” With that, she produced a small pressure cooker and went outside to get water from the tall waterfall there. Brenda followed as Henry began taking footage.

The girl put a pack of cheap Kantonese noodles in the cooker with the water, and put on her peacoat while she waited on it to cook. After a few moments of expectant staring, Brenda jumped and snapped her fingers for Harry to start filming.

“Hi, I’m Brenda Sarkis from Sinnoh’s Trainer Spotlight, live from your very own Pokémon League! I’m here with one of today’s challengers, a vivacious young Trainer! What’s your name, dear?”

“Cynthia Harlowe,” said the girl, and Brenda cheered internally. “Hi, Mom, sorry my hair’s such a mess.” A quick glance down showed that Cynthia also wore a pair of faded black jeans, worn boots, and a rather ratty white tee under the peacoat, but Brenda had learned on her own journey how taxing a Trainer’s life could be and tried not to judge.

“And is this your first challenge, Ms. Harlowe?” Cynthia gave a laugh, with an edge of bitterness.

“I wish. This is—” She paused to check her Pokégear. “My two hundred and twenty-ninth go, today. For some reason, I’m not eligible to enter the Hall of Fame...so I’m just going to keep trying until I am.” Brenda goggled.

“You might want to think of another career choice if you’ve lost that many times, darling,” said Brenda in her best faux-sweet reporter voice. Cynthia looked away over the waterfall, but Brenda didn’t miss the brief swelling of anger and disgust in the young Trainer’s eyes.

“I never said I lost.” She picked up her noodles and stalked back inside, and Harry cut the film.

“Save that!” called Brenda, running back into the Vestibule after Cynthia. Something about the girl; she had a bizarre way of doing things, and she was obviously living on a prayer, but there was a strength in that casual stance she took that Brenda smelled pay dirt in.

Brenda sat down next to Cynthia in silence as the latter slurped down noodles and more cups of expresso than was conducive to human survival. After a moment, Cynthia offered her one, and she sipped it gratefully.

“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you,” Brenda started.

“Well, congratulations,” said Cynthia, in a sullen voice. “You fucking did.”

“I”m sorry,” said Brenda slowly. “Do you think we could maybe start over?” Cynthia gave her a long, piercing look, and nodded. “Great. Now, I was confused, because you said you didn’t lose, but you’ve challenged two hundred twenty-nine times without getting into the Hall of Fame or on the news. Hell, I’m usually one of the people filming challenges! But I’ve never seen you.”

“Look around,” said Cynthia, “at all the other Trainers. Notice something about them that’s different from me?”

“They’re dirtier,” quipped Brenda, earning a chuckle, but she understood. “And they’re male.”

“‘Resolved: that any male Trainer possessing eight Gym Badges of the Region thereof and not holding a position as Gym Leader or Elite Four general may seek the position of Champion by challenge in any Region of the International League.’” quoted Cynthia. “That’s from—”

“The Pan-Regional Pokémon League Accords, Section V, Article 19,” murmured Brenda. “That...learning about that was what put a stop to my journey.” Suddenly, she felt ashamed, and looked down and away from the bright young girl making her dream come true. But Cynthia just put one hand on her shoulder, and nodded once. She understood.

The fierce look in her eyes as the receptionist called her name and she stood to leave said everything Brenda needed to hear.

 

“Give me one camera crew, all women, I need it by two o’clock, sharp!” yelled Brenda into her Pokégear. “I’ve got the story of the year over here and you’re dragging your asses— _get Ms. Frieda on the goddamn phone_. You heard me, punk.” She lit a cigarette and look a long drag. “There is a girl here challenging S5-A19 and you’re putting cameras on a Farfetch’d outbreak?!” Harry looked on in astonishment as Brenda bullied the bureaucracy into surrendering a camera crew from across the continent.

“Sorry, Henry,” said Brenda, “but we need ladies on this scoop. This is gonna blow right up, so I need you on your blog, writing, keeping the masses informed of what we can’t report. This is huge—not just Cynthia, this could change the world.” She pulled a PokéBall from her satchel, returned it to normal size, and summoned an Aerodactyl.

“Morning, Drefan,” she said to him, holding out a pile of envelopes. “I hate to bother you, but would you mind getting these around? You should remember the locations; just don’t poop on anyone, you hear me?” Drefan let out a shriek and flared out his wings, a definite signal—no promises.

When Cynthia emerged from the sliding metal door a few hours later, smelling of smoke and looking annoyed, a small queue of people were waiting for her. Gardenia, fingers steepled and smile wide; Fantina, overdressed but with her hair down, looking on the edge of bursting into laughter; and Maylene, stretching in the corner with her Lucario, Fenrir. All three were strong Trainers in their specialities, prevented from holding Gyms only by the gender laws.

Cynthia had only enough time to blink before they were upon her, asking questions and offering advice. It took several minutes to dissuage Maylene from asking Cynthia from a battle, and several more to restrain the over-loyal acolytes who chimed in to defend their leader. Cynthia looked desperately to Brenda, who cleared her throat.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. You Trainers will remember me. I’m Brenda, a Trainer who collected all eight badges from this region a few years back. Cynthia here has done the same thing; only she isn’t willing to stop.” Scattered applause. “Cynthia, maybe you could say a few words?” Brenda signalled for the cameras to start rolling, and Cynthia stepped forward.

“I’m not much of a speechmaker, but here goes. I’m not really...in it for fame? It’s not about bucking trends, or anything. It’s about me, Cynthia Harlowe. I’m the best Trainer in Sinnoh—I say that with full confidence. No one in this region, battling with all their strength, can beat me and my team. There’s some piece of shit law that says I can’t hold the seat. I say, they can’t keep me down forever. That’s all.” There was a pause, then a male Challenger spoke up.

“The law’s in place to protect women! Trainers’ journeys can be hazardous, and a woman travelling alone...things happen. I’m not some kinda sexist or anything, but maybe you should go home, Cynthia. Besides, it’s kind of insulting to be told I can’t beat you.” Cynthia looked down at him from across the room, and silence reigned.

“Alright, that’s fair. No point in talking big if I can’t back it up. Let’s take this outside.” And she began walking towards the door. Brenda grabbed her arm.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Prove it to him.” Cynthia shrugged.

“My Pokémon are all excited from fighting the Champion. They need to let off the steam anyway.” She shook off the arm and went outside, and the male Challenger followed. After a moment, most of the crowd went outside to watch, and Gardenia  made to officiate.

“Cynthia Harlowe, eight badges, six available Pokémon,” said Cynthia, adjusting her coat.

“Michael Beard, eight badges, three available Pokémon,” said the male Challenger. Gardenia nodded, and raised one hand to initiate the match.

Cynthia’s hand went to her belt first, and she sent out a short, humanoid creature, with a head crowned by white rose petals, a lush green body, and arms tipped in bichromatic flowers. “Ready, Isis?” The Roserade trilled its enthusiasm, and Michael smirked.

“Go, Gregor!” Heat blasted across the onlookers as a massive, scarred Pokemon with a thick, low belly, short legs, a bright red scale pattern, and fingers arranged in a circle around cannon-like arms emerged from his ball. Cynthia smiled wanly.

“Flame Burst!” cried Michael, and Isis crouched, already anticipating her Trainer’s call.

“Sludge Bomb, right in the left cannon,” called Cynthia, and Isis sprang into motion, hissing black poison dripping from her arms. She flexed oddly, firing a burst of the thick refuse into the cannon Cynthia designated and clogging the passageway. The Flame Burst backfired and exploded in the Magmortar’s arm, causing it to scream in pain.

“Easy, Gregor!” said the male, “don’t let it get into stride! Quick with a Fire Punch!” Clearly well-trained, Gregor obeyed immediately and sucker punched Isis with unnatural speed, flames cloaking its right arm. Isis stumbled back, scorched and weakened, but then smiled widely. Gregor had several marks in its torso where Isis’s thorns had pierced him from the close contact, and her potent neurotoxins were working their way through his body.

“Extrasensory,” said Cynthia, and Isis jumped nimbly onto Gregor’s head and placed her flowers on both sides of his head. Psychic abilities could exacerbate the flow of poisons, and it did so here. Gregor foamed at the mouth before passing out cold, and Isis somersaulted off of him as his Trainer recalled him.

“Let’s go, Ferris!” yelled the male Trainer, releasing a tall, imposing Infernape whose flame burned high and strong. Cynthia smirked.

“Isis, Double Team.”

“Mach Punch! Watch out for the thorns!” The Infernape’s fist hit air, mistaking the blurred copy for the real Isis.

“Isis, attract him,” ordered Cynthia. Obediently, Isis produced a white pollen from her flowers that floated towards Ferris, who immediately shook his head and began to move slightly slower. “Now, while he’s stopped, Poison Sting.” Isis shot the Infernape once in the neck with a dripping thorn.

“Snap out of it, Ferris! Blast Burn!” Ferris obeyed instantly, eager to burn away his confused feelings, and the battlefield was obscured as walls of white fire turned he grass to ash.

As the flames and smoke cleared, only a standing and fallen figure remained: Isis, hardly worse for the wear, and Ferris, knocked unconscious.

“How did you do that?” Michael demanded. Cynthia grinned.

“Easy. Double Team was in effect: Isis moved behind Ferris and gave him a nice Venoshock to get the poison really moving. You’ll want to recall him and get medical attention within a few hours, or he’ll probably die.” Isis smiled as her Trainer related these. “Alright, Isis, don’t get greedy. Come back.” With a slight protest, Isis returned to her ball and Michael recalled his own Pokémon.

“Let’s make a comeback, Trevor!” said Michael, tossing out a Toxicroak. Cynthia looked at it for a moment.

“A venomous fighter, hm? You handle this, Enkidu!” A Lucario burst onto the field, and Michael looked disappointed; the canid Pokémon’s Steel typing meant that Poison wouldn’t be an effective strategy, but it would be weak enough to fighting. It also meant they couldn’t add fluff to commands—a momentary pause in a fighter’s match could mean defeat.

“Brick Break!”

“Calm Mind—Reversal!” shouted Cynthia. Trevor sprang towards Enkidu, who stood firm with his eyes closed as the Toxicroak closed in. Just before first contact, the Lucario’s fist snapped upward and grabbed the dark blue wrist, then redirected the force of its jump by slamming it into the ground behind it. There was a harsh crack as its wrist broke. “Get back, Enkidu—let him get up.” Enkidu sprang back with a nod to Cynthia’s honorable policy, thought he was more of a pragmatist.

 _Your aura annoys me, little frog_ , thought Enkidu, loudly enough to project to the audience as well. _You could not hit me were I asleep and dying of disease._

“Don’t fall for it!” said Michael. “Focus Blast!” Immediately, Trevor gathered a deep red force between his hands and shot it towards Enkidu.

“Aura Sphere. Give it all you’ve got.”

A Lucario’s Aura Sphere is given its strength by the strength of character of its wielder. A strong Trainer with a strong heart will produce a strong Lucario, as the saying goes, and the strongest Trainer...well.

Enkidu’s Aura Sphere was massive and crackling with power, raising hairs on all the onlookers with its sheer force. It consumed the Focus Blast to become even larger before Enkidu released it, leaving a torn cleave in the earth as it passed and smashing into Trevor, who let out a small croak as he passed out, blood leaking from his mouth and ears.

“Trainer Michael has no more usable Pokémon. Please render 1/8 of your funds to the winner,” said Gardenia. Michael pulled out his wallet and handed a stack of bills to Cynthia, who pocketed them with a smile and put a hand on his arm as he turned to leave.

“You ought to give Calcium to your Toxicroak: they have brittle bones, and you won’t be able to beat common foes like Staraptor who can outspeed it unless you toughen him up. He’s your starter, right?” Michael nodded. “Well, there you are. You’ve got to take care of him better if you want to enter the Hall of Fame. It’s about more than strategy—it’s about the bonds you have with your friends.” Michael gave another curt nod and reentered the Vestibule for his Infernape’s emergency treatment.

Enkidu held up a fist in victory, and Cynthia copied the gesture before recalling him with a few words of praise.

Brenda looked on in astonishment. Cynthia’s team didn’t even look hurt, and both of them had fought extremely strong evolved Pokémon with a typing disadvantage. And not only had Cynthia easily coordinated the battle, she’d noticed flaws in her opponent’s training. This girl was the real deal; Brenda hadn’t doubted to begin with, but this was definitely a Trainer strong enough to beat the League daily.

She picked up her cell phone.

 

“I’ve called this meeting to discuss a challenger in my Sinnoh region that’s been receiving a lot of international media attention,” said a middle-aged man wearing a simple pinstriped brown suit.

“Don’t see what the problem is,” said Alder Preston, Champion of Unova. He leaned back in his chair lazily. “There are loads of female Trainers out there, why not let ‘em have a go at being Champion? It’s not like female Pokémon are weaker than males.”

“It’s male humans attacking women that I’m worried about,” interjected Hoenn’s champion, Drake. “Back in the Navy, sexual assault rates were so high we had to completely segregate male and female soldiers.”

“But isn’t that why we would want female Champions? It seems to me that any group allowed to die in battle should be allowed to rule,” said Samuel Oak, Kanto-Johto’s current leader.

“No,” said the man in the suit. His name was Lorenzo Grace, and he was the Champion of Sinnoh, a Normal-type specialist. “It is the weakness of the female spirit and mind that makes her unfit to run countries.”

“Tell that to your wife, pal,” said Alder, with a trace of annoyance. “S5-A19 is a relic anyway; it’s about time we did away with it. Besides, Drayden’s new apprentice is scarily talented. He might gut me if I said she couldn’t be Champion one day.”

“I agree,” said Siebold Babineaux, Kalos’s Champion. “You should see Augustine rave about his actress friend; there is great power in females, and it would be uncouth of us to limit the range of their art.”

“Shall we vote, then?” asked Grace with a smirk. “All those in favor of abolition, vote ay.”

“Ay,” chorused Alder, Oak, and Siebold. Oak’s vote counting twice for two regions, the vote passed. Grace looked down at the table for a second, and waved a hand. The curtain obscuring the view was pulled back, revealing Castelia City’s sprawl beneath them.

“I cannot fight the League; but no matter. Cynthia Harlowe has never battled me at my full strength. I will not fall.”

 

A large crowd of activists, holding signs with slogans like “Gender =/= Strength”, and “I’m Hoothoot for Harlowe!” watched the screen in Jubilife City as Secretary General Lorelei North related the ruling on the abolition of S5-A19.

“Today, at 4:42 PM, the Champion’s Council ruled 4 votes to two in favor of abolishing S5-A19. The Council hopes to encourage equality, fairness, and opportunity worldwide in this ruling, and wishes all Trainers, of all genders, good luck in their upcoming challenges.” The cheering that ensued threatened to burst eardrums as the assembled Trainers roared their approval, but Lorelei was not finished.

“Finally, on a more personal note, I hereby tender my resignation from the position of Secretary General. There’s an Elite Four position with my name on it.”

 

Brenda fussed over Cynthia’s clothes—months had passed since their meeting, and both their lives had changed. Just the day before, S5-A19 had been repealed, and this was to be Cynthia’s 365th Championship Challenge. This one would count for all. Even though there was no legal restriction, the outcome of Cynthia’s challenge would either give hope the girls beginning journeys around the world, or be a victory for those who said they couldn’t make it.

Both women, the challenger and the journalist, had reaped spoils from the campaign. Donations for better clothing (and hair products), advertisements, medicines, and conventions had poured in from every region, and both women looked their parts. Brenda had quit her job after Trainer Spotlight refused to air Cynthia’s story. Now she was Cynthia’s personal agent, and ran her website.

Cynthia herself was wearing a much cleaner coat with a fur collar, heeled boots, black jeans, and a new pair of custom Lucario aura hair clips. Her ball belt was still the old, worn one though, and her Pokémon didn’t care what she looked like. It was her heart that mattered.

“Cynthia Harlowe, please enter the Road to Victory,” said the receptionist over the intercom. “Good luck!” The last was a personal message, and cheers rose up from Cynthia’s present supporters. Only Brenda and a camera crew were allowed to climb the stairs with her, and record what would no doubt be a historic rise to power.

The first room, with its trees and loamy dirt, held a slim, green-haired youth. Aaron held up his hands before Cynthia could draw her first ball, and the referee frowned.

“No way I’m going to put my beautiful bugs against her! Even my strongest get so beat up! I forfeit!” Cynthia’s hand went slowly back to her side, and she smiled. It seemed that the Elites, at least, had been giving their all. She gave Aaron a pat on the back as she left.

“Sorry for hurting your babies,” she said, and walked up as the camera crew followed in rapt silence.

Volkner’s circuit-ridden chamber was next. He was slouching even as he stood, and shook his head slowly.

“I would usually be ready to go, but...man, that monster of yours gives me insecurities. I forfeit.” It began to dawn on Cynthia that the Elites might actually be sick of being beaten once a day.

She climbed into a room filled with Tiki torches, burning hot but smokeless. Flint sat in the sand and rubbed his forehead.

“Let’s not even play like I stand a chance of beating you. I forfeit, let the record show that C. Lowe’s a boss. Good luck with Grace, Cynthia.” A secondary purpose, of course: they didn’t want Cynthia to battle Lorenzo with any less than full power.

The referee just waved Cynthia on when she entered Lucian’s austere room: he had already been telepathically informed by Lucian’s Alakazam that a night in reading would be more productive than a vain attempt to defeat Cynthia—hence, the Psychic-type master had not bothered to show up.

Cynthia ascended to the final level of the Pokémon League’s castle with an awestruck entourage and a face full of grim determination. Lorenzo sat in a simple wooden throne, legs crossed and countenance clear.

“Greetings, Challenger.”

“It had been quite some time since any Trainer dared to challenge my right to preside over this region save yourself. I actually admire your strength, to some degree...but it will not be sufficient to defeat me. My subordinates may have fallen at the height of their power...but I am not Elite. I am a Champion.

“So, Cynthia Harlowe, I accept your challenge. I welcome it. The adversity you claim suppresses you, the nature within you that demands your position beneath me—I wish to see you strive with all your power against it, and to see how you respond to the failure of your efforts! Come!” Grace took off his suit’s coat, remaining only in his vest as he tossed the coat away and summoned an Ursaring.

“How will you fare against my Horace?” he asked, lips parted in excitement.

“We’ll see,” replied Cynthia. “Let’s show him our strength, Wexler!” Her Togekiss trilled its excitement as he took to the air.

“Belly Drum, Horace!” The massive bear slammed its paws into its expansive stomach, hurting itself with its claws, but Cynthia saw its muscles flexing and knew that the strange ritual had increased its already huge offensive potential to dangerous levels.

“Wexler, gather power!” He took more altitude and began to glow a light blue, circling in preparation for attack. Grace smiled.

“Horace, wait—Bulk Up!” Unbelievably, the Ursaring got even bigger and scarier. Cynthia took in a deep breath, assessing the danger.

“Wexler, Sky Attack!” Grace’s smile became predatory.

“Aerial Ace!” he crowed, pointing at Wexler’s pin-straight trajectory.

“What?!” yelled Cynthia, unable to see such bulk moving quickly, but Horace went into a crouch and sprang into the air faster than she thought possible, and there was a horrific crunch and an arc of blood as the two fighters met each other midair. Wexler dropped like a stone, and Cynthia ran onto the field to catch him.

He had deep grooves scored into his back, and was keening weakly—without therapy and immediate medical care, the damage to his muscles meant he’d never fly again. She recalled him immediately and handed his ball to the on-site medical team, but then remembered there had been a crunch as well, and looked over at Horace. He’d already had a damaged stomach, and he’d had Wexler transfer unbelievable energies into his torso while centering a massive change in direction around his own body.

Horace was twisted so unnaturally, was covered in so much coagulating blood, that Cynthia knew he was dead.

“That was a suicide attack!” she screamed at Grace, who recalled Horace’s corpse into a Pokéball that slowly began to turn black. “He _knew_ he was going to die and he did it anyway you piece of absolute _shit_ —” Grace held up a hand and shook his head.

“Horace is unable to battle, as is your Wexler. Select your next Pokémon.” Cynthia’s shaking hands went to her belt, and she understood. That was a demonstration. It meant she couldn’t take risks, because if Grace was willing to kill one of his own Pokémon for victory, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill hers. Deaths happened in battle sometimes, but she had never seen a Trainer cause it.

“Come on, Mariah!” Cynthia’s Milotic floated in the air and formed a slight coil, sniffing the air and smelling blood. Mariah closed her eyes, and Cynthia felt a wave of calm wash over her. “Thank you. We can do this!”

“I doubt it,” said Grace. “Fowler, go!” A Sawsbuck burst from its ball, and was immediately distressed by the blood. “Ignore that, Fowler. Aromatherapy!” The smell of blood was washed away by sweetness.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Mariah! Aqua Ring!” Mariah ejected a smooth veil of water to cloak its body, hydrating its scales and keeping it healthy.

“Fowler, Sunny Day!” The Sawsbuck released a stream of white energy into the air, which burst into heat and light that the green leaves on its head strained for. Immediately, new vitality filled its limbs, and it sprang forward, knowing it’s master’s next order. “Horn Leech!”

“Aqua Tail!” Mariah screeched in pain, as her aim accidentally hit Fowler’s horns and caused them to pierce her deeper. The watery veil began to stain with blood, but it slowly started to purify itself.

Refreshed and with bloodstained antlers, Fowler stepped back a moment.

“Double-Edge, while you’re close!” ordered Grace. Fowler jumped in to do just that, but Mariah and Cynthia were ready.

“Wrap,” said Cynthia with a smile, and Mariah floated up to intercept Fowler mid-jump and wrap around him, squeezing tightly as joints popped and it whined.

“Seed the veil!” yelled Grace, and Fowler obeyed: small plants grew faster than naturally possible in the Aqua Veil and on Mariah’s body, sending their energy back to Fowler. The flower buds on Fowler’s antlers began to open and glow, and Cynthia suddenly saw Grace’s strategy: get in too close to dodge, and then fire a powerful beam.

“Mariah, he’s doing a beam. You know what to do.” The Milotic nodded her understanding.

“Fowler, SolarBeam!” The flowers unleashed their furious golden light—which in turn rebounded on them, reflected by Mariah’s Mirror Coat! Fowler passed out from both the damage and difficulty breathing in a coil, and Cynthia sighed her relief as Grace recalled him. At least there were no more deaths.

“Come on back, Mariah.” The serpent floated back to Cynthia and nuzzled her face before returning to her ball, and Cynthia selected another one: Isis jumped onto the battlefield with a twirl and a wink, ready to defeat whatever came to her.

“Come forth, Chester!” At first, Cynthia thought there must have been a mistake. The light could not be coalescing into a figure that size. But it resolved itself into a Snorlax, bulk incredible to behold, and Cynthia sucked in a worried breath. A single blow from that could turn Isis into a grease spot.

“Rollout!” cried Grace, gesturing grandly with one hand. Cynthia frowned: that was a Rock-type move, not at all damaging to Isis. Regardless, the Snorlax folded into a ball and charged.

“Toxic, Isis! Clip it mid-jump!” Isis vaulted into the air and time seemed to slow as the Snorlax unfolded itself and folded back out to its normal height.

“Self-destruct!” roared Grace, spit flying from his mouth, and Cynthia’s outstretched hand did nothing to stop the eruption of light from Chester as enzymes in his body lysed every cell, formed azides, and exploded, throwing all the humans backwards with its force. When Cynthia’s vision cleared, the only thing visible was Isis’ charred body, barely alive, and a few scorched flower petals floating down from the air.

Cynthia reached for an avenger.

“Enkidu...that man...” The jackal read in her aura the pain, the grief, the anger. Above all, Isis and her smile as he flew to her death. Enkidu raised both fists, raised his ears and pointed them forward, narrowed his eyes, and snarled, waiting to be given a target.

“This match is yours, Camellia,” said Grace with supreme calm, producing a Lopunny with lush fur and unusually strong legs.

“Blood for blood,” said Cynthia, as the Lopunny moved into a crouch. “Quick Guard!”

“Quick Attack... _damn it!_ ” yelled Grace, as Camellia darted faster than humans can see and was stopped cold by a steel-reinforced left forearm.

“Power-Up Punch!” Enkidu’s right hand rocketed into Camellia’s gut from below, spike causing a small cut, and the lupine body rose off the ground from the force of it. “Blaze Kick!”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Grace, but Enkidu’s lower leg was already catching glorious flame and moving up into kicking position. The clawed paw smashed a black footprint into Camellia’s stomach, sending her flying into the opposite wall. Enkidu, foaming at the mouth with reddened, furious eyes, made to follow, but Cynthia barked an admonishment.

“No more Blaze Kicks! You’ll break your leg.” Sure enough, the flames had burned away most of the fur on that leg, and it was bleeding steadily. “Oh, and Grace? I used to work summers at a Day Care. His father was a Blaziken.” Grace nodded once, looked sideways at his Lopunny and down at Enkidu’s leg. Camella coughed up blood, and that convinced him: he recalled her.

“You have moved me to my last resort, Harlowe. But it’s not over yet!” He pulled one last Pokéball from his belt and summoned, of all things, a Ditto. It immediately spread itself all over the floor and soaked up the only genetic material it could find: that in the lymphocytes of Enkidu’s blood. It gathered itself back on Grace’s side of the field, stretching and molding its amorphous body into an exact clone of Enkidu’s. “Let’s finish it, Dorian! ExtremeSpeed!”

Dorian moved with Enkidu’s swiftness, avoiding his downward punch and crashing into him.

“Enkidu, Counter!”

“Don’t give it time! Close Combat!”

Cynthia watched in horror as the Ditto-Lucario’s fist smashed over and over into Enkidu’s body, beating the rage and the life out of him. When Enkidu flopped rather than tighten his body in response to the blows, she recalled him and summoned Mariah back to battle.

“Is this a joke, Challenger? Dorian, Psychic!” Dorian’s hands flew to its head, and the psi blast it hit Mariah with was strong enough to make her eyes and ears bleed. She fell out of the air and to the ground after mere seconds of the onslaught, and Dorian smirked.

“You have nothing left, Challenger. Leave.” Grace sat down in his throne, and Dorian turned to stand by its Trainer.

“I do have one Pokémon remaining, Champion Lorenzo.” Cynthia handed her other Pokéballs to the medical staff, then reached into the innermost pocket of her coat, pulled out a minimized Pokéball, and stared at it. “I do not usually risk this one in battle. He is...my best friend.”

“Then he will be all the more willing to die for your dream!” hissed Grace, standing back up. Dorian growled his agreement.

“Go, Clyde!” said Cynthia, and brought forth a Garchomp that far exceeded PokéDex averages in size, reaching nearly eight feet in height. Grace began to laugh.

“Is that all? Against the universal might of this fine Lucario? Your dream will perish.”

“Shut up! Clyde, Dragon Tail!” He ran forward at blinding speed, slices of displaced air cutting the walls, and turned to slam his tail into Dorian’s chest.

“Protect,” ordered Grace, and Dorian generated a force field that stopped Clyde’s tail cold.

“Flamethrower!” yelled Cynthia. “Wait for the barrier to drop!”

“Dodge, then Sky Uppercut,” said Grace, chuckling. Dorian dropped under the barrier and smashed its fist into Clyde’s rough chin, sending him flying into the air.

“Clyde, hit the ground claws first and dig!” Obedient even when hurt, Clyde tightened his arms and dug into the ground like it was water, a true land shark.

“Earthquake!”

“No!” But it was too late. Dorian slammed its feet into the ground, causing the earth to shake, shudder, and even crack. Cynthia’s feet slipped into the loosened earth up to the knee, and she was trapped. Clyde came up to the surface if only for survival standing protectively in front of his trainer and panting heavily from his beating.

“It will not move. Dorian, Dragon Pulse. Harlowe, this is the end.” Grace took his spot in his throne once more as Dorian gathered energy in its mouth.

“Clyde, Fly.” The Garchomp stood firm as the energy stopped gathering, and Dorian’s head prepared to fire.

“He will not obey!”

“Clyde, Fly!” begged Cynthia, struggling in vain to free her legs.

“Vanish!” screamed Grace, and Dorian released his gathered power in a cohesive white beam, flecked with violet and in the shape of a vortex.

“Clyde, for Arceus’s sake, if you love me, _FLY!_ ” The massive dragon gave his Trainer as sad look and took flight at top speed, breaking the sound barrier. It flew higher than even Cynthia expected, punching through the ceiling and giving all the onlookers an unrivalled view of the starry sky above.

Cynthia did not see it. The Dragon Pulse hit her with such forces as to rip her out of the ground, burning through her clothing and scorching her skin until Grace called Dorian off. It began to bruise and shine even then, and Cynthia drew ragged breaths.

“I see your companion has abandoned you.” Grace smirked. “This match is over. Go home, Harlowe, and grieve the loss of your “best friend”.”

“You son of a bitch. Let me tell you something.

“I wasn’t always Sinnoh League Challenger Cynthia Harlowe. Once upon a time I was just fifteen-year-old hired help Cindy from Celestic, hiking my way to Solaceon every day to work with the Pokémon at the Day Care. I loved my work. I loved hugging them and comforting them while their Trainers were gone, I loved feeding and helping them find mates during cycles, I loved sending them on their way happy and healthy.

“There were Pokémon that slipped through the cracks. There was one...a Gible, abandoned by his parents. No Trainer wanted to take their chances on a dangerous Dragon with unknown lineage. They wanted safe Dragons, Dragons with pedigrees. And because humans rejected the Gible, the Pokémon rejected him, too.

“I took in that Gible. I had faith that one day he would grow into a Pokémon I could be proud of...and he believed that one day I would be a Trainer worthy of his power. The first step we took on that day, believing in each other...I won’t forget it.

“All over the world, right now, there are billions of fifteen-year-old hired help Cindys watching me, trying to see by my example how far they can reach with their belief and their dreams and their backbreaking effort. They think that they are too weak, not good enough, never quite there. I am here to prove them wrong.”

As one, her treated Pokémon burst from their balls and took places around her, and Cynthia raised a single fist in the air, a copy of Enkidu’s victory gesture. Her team followed suit, raising whatever appendages they had.

“I don’t need your approval,” said Cynthia, “and I don’t need your title. As long as the girls of this world, my friends, and Clyde believe in me, I’ve already won.” A screaming noise entered the chamber through the roof, and all eyes turned towards the ceiling. Dorian gathered another Dragon Pulse and prepared to fire it.

The entire ceiling exploded as meteors showered through, with Clyde moving like a comet with them, body cloaked in royal violet wrath and gaping jaws roaring pride and power. The Dragon Pulse was lost in the air-shaking thrum of power, dissociating as it left Dorian’s mouth, and just before the smoke from crashing meteors obscured vision, Cynthia saw Grace dive away from a meteor en route to his throne.

She stood up slowly, supported by Isis and Enkidu, and began to walk forward into the dissipating smoke. As the haze cleared, Dorion’s prone, twitching body came into view, with the victorious Clyde standing over it. Cynthia laid a hand on Clyde’s back, and he joined their procession.

“That Garchomp...did it just spontaneously generate a Draco Meteor?” asked Grace. “It takes weeks of training to tutor that move...” Cynthia ignored him and walked past, stepping on the lift tile without him. It was tradition for the previous Champion to hand off the title, but she did not want it handed to her.

She entered her name, CYNTHIA VERONICA HARLOWE, into the computer, as well as the species, gender, and name of all her team members, and then turned to make her Victory March.

Grace sat in the splintered ruins of his throne, still unable to process his loss as Sinnoh’s new champion left him behind in the dust.

Lucian had arrived, and crisply saluted Cynthia as she walked past.

Flint snapped double pistols at her and winked as his Pokémon showered her path with beautiful golden flames.

Volkner’s room lit up with blue lightning to herald the conquering heroes, and he handed her his resignation—he was making way for a female Elite, a Master Ground-type Trainer who had aided Cynthia in training Clyde.

Aaron and all his Pokémon applauded enthusiastically as Cynthia walked past, and the trees had reshaped into bowing shapes.

Cynthia emerged into the Vestibule to find a massive crowd cheering and screaming, champagne bottles bursting, streamers and confetti flying, and joy abounding, but it was Brenda flying into her arms for a kiss that gave the coronation its crown.

 

“Excuse me,” said Cynthia, to a small brown girl with poofy hair and deep maroon eyes. The girl stopped playing with her friend, a large Fraxure, and and looked up at her. “Would you happen to know where I can find the Village of Dragons?”

“I sure do! It’s my home, miss! Are you looking for someone?” Cynthia nodded, smiling.

“I’m looking for a Dragon-type trainer named Iris,” she replied, crouching down. “She’s about your age. Do you know her?”

“That’s me! Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Iris stick out a filthy hand, and Cynthia laughed and shook it.

“Is it true that you know the hearts of dragons?” asked Cynthia, head tilted to the side.

“Well, some people say that.” Iris scratched her chin in contemplation and looking out into the lush green Unovan plain. “I don’t mind looking at yours, though! You’re nice.” Cynthia pulled out a Pokéball and produced a Garchomp, scarred and well into its prime battling age. Iris’s eyes widened.

“Is that a Garchomp? Wow! I’ve never seen one before.” She climbed onto Clyde’s neck and began playing with him cheerfully for a few minutes, while Cynthia sat cross-legged on the ground and laughed at their antics until the warmth and comfort sent her drifting off.

“Miss? Miss?” Iris waved her hand in Cynthia’s face. “I’m done playing with Clyde.” Cynthia was roused from her dozing sharply.

“How did you find out his name?”

“From him, silly! Anyway, he’s got a good heart, like almost all dragons. He wants to protect you, and keep you safe, and he wants to make sure the two of you are always together until you both die.” Iris paused. “And he likes how you smell.” Cynthia nodded, surprised to find tears coming to her eyes.

“Iris, I...don’t know how to thank you. My name is Cynthia Harlowe. Do you know who I am?” Iris gasped.

“Wait, are you... _that_ Cynthia?” Cynthia smiled wryly and nodded, and Iris actually tackled her and gave her a hug, breathing deeply.

“Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh! I can’t believe it! You’re Cynthia! And, and, that’s your Garchomp! You’re my absolute favorite Trainer, I want to be just like you when I grow up!” Iris enthused. Cynthia patted her on the head.

“You do, huh? Well, you know...” Cynthia looked up at the setting sun, and the smattering of stars appearing on the horizon. “My mother used to tell me there’s a star in the sky for every dream that comes true. Yours has to be up there, just like mine was.”

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Written for myself, inspired by a conversation with my friend Alex.


End file.
